Raze, Part 1
by Kuraun14
Summary: The story of Turner, a soldier during the Raze war. This takes place during levels 1-7 in the game, though with different characters. Rated T for graphic violence. Check out my other story, Knight of Gotham: Laughing has its Downsides (rated T for violence, drug content, and some disturbing elements)! Tell me if I need to change the rating on either of these.
1. Chapter 1

Raze, Part 1

CHAPTER 1: TRAINING DAY

My story begins three months after the war started. I remember the first indicator that we were being invaded: hundreds of ships hovering over L.A. The aliens tried to convince us they weren't hostile, even showing us their guns, but we weren't convinced. The U.N. gathered, deciding that it would be in everybody's best interest to create an international army. This was called Raze. Most countries agreed, including ones like Russia, the U.S., Great Britain, and Japan. Countries like South Africa and France, however, wanted to leave their defense to themselves (idiots).

I was 30. I was already in the U.S.M.C., so I was chosen for Raze, being a program which accepted only the best and brightest. I was assigned to Colonel John Faxell, a muscular black guy who always smoked a big cigar and woke you up with sounds that he could have conceivably conjured from Hell. Training days were always the worst. You awoke (violently) to said sounds at 4:00 in the morning, to be greeted by a loud, deep, condescending voice with the thickest Louisiana accent on the planet. Your breakfast consisted of a measly (literally, the stuff could've had the measles virus) piece of bread and cheap soup. Faxwell always said it was so we would "know what it's like to eat on the battlefield".

After choking this down, you would suit up and head into the training room, which was changed monthly in preparation for the next training day. I remember when my story kicked into high gear. It started about two months after I joined Raze. I entered the training room, stomach still protesting the foreign objects that had been put there. One of the training screens along the wall told me to take out my weapon before beginning. I pulled out my Magnum T2 and stared down the first obstacle.

It was a wall about ten feet in height. The training screen explained how our suits strengthened our legs, enabling us to perform jumps around this height with ease. I ran, holding my gun with both hands, towards the wall, and jumped. This part of the training was nothing new. I landed on the top of the wall successfully. The next obstacle was right in front of me.

While the first wall wasn't new, this next obstacle was. It was an elevated platform about fifteen feet in height. The training screen explained the new boost charges in our boots, allowing us to, in a sense, double-jump. I'd heard about these. I also heard that during one of the first tests, the soldier trying them was flipped into the wall. That made me even less enthusiastic, if that was even possible. I jumped once and activated the charges through the neuro-headset in my helmet. I flipped and narrowly missed banging my head on the edge of the platform. But in the end, I landed on my feet, surprisingly, with new confidence.

The next obstacle wasn't new either. The training screen once again flashed to life and told me what it was: a jump pad. These jump pads gave us a boost to get to higher ground. They were installed to propel snipers to their own little perches, just in case the facility needed defending. Recruits were trained in all kinds of different ways, so that they could function as any kind of soldier in the field.

I walked onto the jump pad, and of course, jumped. It felt exhilarating. I landed on a platform twenty feet above me. The next screen said to try a running boost. I had to run off the platform, and boost in the middle of the fall to make it to the next part. The first time I tried, I boosted too late, and landed in the pool of water thirty-five feet below. I had to get out, climb on the first platform, then use the jump pad again. My second attempt succeeded. I went into the next room.

There were three ten-foot high partitions that I had to jump over in order to reach the final part of the training room. After getting over all three, I jumped down to the final stage: going up against a training-bot. The training-bot already had an assault rifle (power significantly lower than if it was in the field, of course), while I only had my T2.

The training-bot opened fire immediately. I rolled to my right, avoiding the shots. I finished rolling and took a shot at the training-bot's head. Its head exploded in a cascade of microchips, sparks, and wires. It's good to be a marine. Of course, after five seconds, another training-bot appeared in a random spot. With my luck, it popped up behind me. It had only a magnum this time, but there was an ice chain-gun right behind it.

It got the chain-gun and stated shooting. I was hit immediately. This was the most annoying part about the training day. When you get hit, it's still exceedingly painful, and your suit is automatically powered down for five seconds.

It felt like I was on the floor for an eternity. When I got up, I had the good fortune of a thunder-gun appearing next to me. I grabbed it, and the training-bot zeroed in on me again. It fired. I dodged constantly, without time to breathe. Eventually, I was able to hide behind a platform, with the training-bot on top. I slid out from under the platform and fired. The thunder-gun's powerful bolt went straight through the training-bot, making it violently explode.

After a new one appeared, I easily shot it, blowing off its arm and a chunk of its torso. "Heck YEAH!" I said. The fourth training-bot appeared on a platform above me, on the left side of the room. It had grabbed a zapper. _Wonderful, _I thought. This weapon was quite possibly the worst. Instead of using bullets or anything similar, the zapper used focused microwaves that would basically cook you from the inside out. It was a relatively slow death, and considered cruel. The training-bot took aim as I jumped on the platform in the center of the room.

I failed to hit it, and I used the last bolt in the thunder-gun. I didn't have time to reload, nor did I have time to switch to my T2. The training-bot let loose with the zapper. While it wouldn't kill me, it still hurt like heck. My suit powered down for another five seconds, and after I got up, I scrambled toward a pair of bio-uzis while the training-bot's zapper ran out of juice. I opened fire mercilessly, the bolts from the bio-uzis melting the training-bot.

The next five seconds had me alert, waiting for the next training-bot. When it appeared, I found that a rocket launcher was next to me. I picked it up, said, "Hasta la vista, baby," and fired. The RPGs in the training room only have enough fuel for a couple of seconds, but that's plenty. The war heads are also disabled, so as not to kill anyone. But it's still satisfying to see one hit a training-bot. When the RPG struck it, it went flying and hit the opposite wall, shutting down. The wall to my right rose up, revealing Faxwell, smirking. "You did better than last time, Derrickson," he said. Coming from Faxwell, that was pretty good.

Faxwell and I started walking along the hall, away from the training room and towards the main part of the facility. "Well, rookie," he said, "I just got the order. You're going to be stationed in L.A." I stopped. L.A. was the epicenter. I felt horrified. The aliens hadn't attacked yet, but if and when they did, it would start in L.A. "Seriously?" I said. "Yes," replied Faxwell, grim. "But don't worry. You'll be fine out there." "How do you know?" I asked. "Because I trained you," he replied, smiling.

I was going to be transferred a few days after that. But only two days later, the aliens started. L.A. was being fired upon heavily. Casualties were in the neighborhood of one soldier every ten seconds. Just in case you're trying to do the math, that's thirty-six hundred of our boys an hour. After the primary assault, training ramped up. It was too risky to send anybody in to L.A. at the moment, so I stayed for another month. They squeezed in three training days in that month.

No amount of training would've prepared me for what happened next. There were fifty different training facilities all across the U.S. I was in Baton Rouge. Mine wasn't the first to be hit, though. After reports that one of the ships had drifted off towards the east, other reports came in from Carson City and Phoenix saying they were being attacked. We hunkered down for another month, with another three training days. Eventually, the ship was destroyed by the guys in Austin. But Phoenix, Carson City, and Santa Fe were almost gone. After another two weeks (and another training day; it was easy for me at that point), Tokyo was hit. Japan fell. The remaining soldiers were transferred to Beijing.

Sometime later, Russia fell, along with Israel and Spain. And then, finally, my day of reckoning came. The fire had died down enough to send me to L.A. It was the day before I was supposed to leave. I was with Faxwell, discussing how the whole thing would go. Suddenly, the alarms went off, and three alien foot soldiers dropped through the ceiling. One had a thunder gun. Faxwell took out his gun, but the alien fired first. It blew off his arm, spraying blood and making tendons fly. There was just a few strings of gory pulp left on Faxwell's shoulder. "Sir!" I said. "Turner," he said, "get out of here. Help…secure…the facility." He died. He had never called me by my first name. It made me rage at the aliens. The aliens snarled. I yelled and pulled out my T2. I got behind a corner and fired at the one that killed Faxwell. Its head snapped back and nearly came off with the force of the bullet. I ran to the main section of the facility, ready to avenge my C.O.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER II: SECURE THE FACILITY

Of course, I hadn't counted on the aliens being fast. I ducked behind a corner and threw a pressure grenade. It does what the name implies. One alien dived, but the other one apparently didn't have stellar reflexes. The grenade exploded, creating a field of immense pressure, crushing the alien. Its snarls turned to gurgles and then to silence as its black blood spurted all over the hall. I stepped out from behind the corner and shouted at the final alien, "YA WANT SOME O' THAT, E.T.?!"

The remaining alien jumped out and lunged at me, jaws open wide. It landed on me, biting my arm. I felt my arm bleed as its fangs sunk into me. I put my T2 directly up to its head and fired. Needless to say, it was messy. Bits of its skull flew into my face. I rolled its dead body off of me, and got up, picking up the alien's fallen thunder gun. "Let's do this," I said. I reached the center of the facility, after gunning down several aliens.

I ran up to a guy named Albert Briggs, the prankster in my unit who looked like a cross between Toby Turner and Ryan Gosling. Albert, like the rest of us, was trained in every kind of warfare, but he was especially adept at being a sniper. "Hey, pretty boy," I said, "you got some action yet?" Al rolled his eyes and looked at me. "Yeah," he said. A snarl attracted his attention. He turned around and aimed his rifle at an alien. He fired, causing the alien to be thrown ten feet.

I took up a shotgun. An alien tried to get at me from above, but I fired, shredding most of the alien's torso. "Hey, Turner," I heard. I turned to see my best friend, Kyle Singer, walk towards me with an assault rifle. Kyle looked at me and said, "Where's Faxwell?" I looked at him without saying a word. Kyle looked at the floor. We didn't have time to mourn, however, because several alien berserkers broke through. Berserkers were larger than regular alien infantry, and unarmed. That didn't make them any less dangerous.

One raced toward a soldier and grabbed him by the head, swinging him above his head, and ended with slamming him to the ground. The soldier was obviously dead. I jumped over a desk toward the berserker and shot him with my gun at point-blank range, blowing his head off. That attracted the other ones, though. I used my other pressure grenade, catching the lower body of one of the berserkers. I used up all the ammo from my shotgun on the others. I failed at killing two of them, and one grabbed my head and started squeezing. I thought I was dead.

Thankfully, Al was watching, and he sent a bullet through the alien's head. I felt its hands relax, and it fell down with a dull thud. The final berserker was taken out with a thunder gun. The aliens' ranks were thinning…or so it seemed. The lights went off, reducing the room to pitch black. Our helmets were equipped with night-vision, but that limited our peripheral vision, making it more difficult to fight.

Every soldier in the room had their guns ready, breathing hard. We knew we had to get the emergency generators on. The guards were likely already dead, considering they didn't come on immediately. I heard one of the higher-ups shouting, "Okay, we're going to need fifteen soldiers to head to the generators!" I shouted my consent, and so did Kyle and Al.

We headed out with twelve other soldiers, including a German-American guy named Johann Soldat. I remember seeing the footage of his training days. The dude was awesome. I was glad we had him. It didn't take us long to come across some alien soldiers. A couple of alien insurgents were in the middle of the hall with rocket launchers. They fired, and most of us ducked behind the corner, but two of our guys were caught by the RPGs.

Johann came out, guns blazing. Immediately, he took out both insurgents. I honestly felt envious of the man. We proceeded quietly down the halls, further towards the generators. We heard rustling behind us. Immediately, we realized there were black ops aliens with us. Black ops class alien soldiers wore complete black armor, with Bio-Uzis and katanas. "Inverse huddle," I whispered. An inverse huddle was like a regular huddle, but with everyone facing outwards. We formed up, and Kyle shot off a round at the ceiling.

I jumped and said, "Kyle, what the heck?" "Sorry," he said, "I thought I saw one." "Alright," I said, "Let's move on." We kept in the formation, continuing. We kept hearing quiet clanking and rustling. Eventually, the aliens made their move. One of the guys with us shouted, "I see o…" before he was speared through the head with a katana. We started firing at the spot, but the sword was gone as quickly as it came. Al said, "Man, what I wouldn't give to have one of the guys in Beijing." We all knew what he meant. The Japanese division of Raze taught their soldiers Ninjutsu, making them excellent black ops soldiers.

I heard a rustling right in front of me, and blew off the head of the black ops alien that was attempting to shish kabob me. I heard angry chattering. That meant we made those others ones mad, and they threw stealth out the window. There was three left, and they all rushed us. We lost two guys before we managed to kill them all. It wasn't a pretty sight. Alien body parts were all over the place, and I was covered in black blood. I had been in war before, but not like this. This was much uglier.

There was minimal resistance from the aliens there on out, and we made it to the generators with ten guys left, including me, Johann, Al, and Kyle. Johann and I volunteered to watch while the others switched the generators on. Nothing happened in the time it took them to kill the two aliens guarding the place and fix the generators. It was a frightening period of fifteen minutes, waiting for them to finally bring the power back.

The lights soon came back on, but that was just the first step. Now we had to put the facility on lockdown, so we could defend it against the remaining alien soldiers inside. This was going to be another journey deeper into the facility, with more firefights on the way.

Not many encounters with aliens ensued, however. Eventually, four of us ran out of ammo, meaning we had to use our knives. Unfortunately, that was around the time we met with our little grey friends. We heard an alien scream at us, alerting his comrades. One lunged at me, mouth open wide. I manage to slash its neck open with my knife. Johann took down a couple of them. One of our guys didn't make it, though. Only after dispatching the rest did we discover that Harry Masterson, a kid of about nineteen, had had a chunk torn out of his torso. Blood was pouring from his side.

Kyle looked at him and said, "Hey, hey, Harry. You're okay, you're okay. Just breathe." Harry had more blood leaking from his mouth. "Kyle," he said weakly, "Can you…get this…to my mom?" It was an old picture of Harry with his mother, maybe taken when he was twelve or thirteen. There were dying tears in his eyes. "I will," said Kyle, taking the photo. "Okay," said Harry. He let his neck go slack, and he moved no more. Kyle closed Harry's eyes. Kyle stood up, turning around, and started kicking the wall. He was yelling with all his might, and then he screamed, "WHY HIM? HE WAS NINETEEN! HE WAS JUST A KID!" He stopped kicking and said weakly, "He was just a kid." All of us had looked on. I walked to Kyle and put my hand on his shoulder. "Kyle," I said, "we have to keep going. We can't let him or anybody else here die in vain."

Kyle nodded in agreement and moved away from the wall. We moved on, finally reaching the lockdown point. All we had to do was flip a switch, and then the facility was alive with the sounds of sirens. When the lockdown was complete, we moved through the blood-soaked halls one more time, until we reached the main part. We thought we'd gone through Hell already, but the worst came when we had to tell Darren, Harry's older brother, what had happened.

We had picked up Harry on our way back, and we laid his body at Darren's feet. Darren broke down crying, and then he shouted, "IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU COULDV'E DONE SOMETHING!" Kyle raised his hands in a calming gesture, and said, "Darren, no, there wasn't anything we cou…" "YES THERE WAS!" Darren was inconsolable. He walked off, leaving the rest of us with pits in our stomachs. The whole room was silent.

The silence was broken when one of our head scientists, Frank Perriman, went up to the balcony surrounding the whole room and began speaking in a loud voice, "Hey! Everybody, I want you to listen up! Right now, we have several battalions worth of aliens in this building. Fortunately, some of our soldiers went and put this place on lockdown! Not all of them made it out! As most of you know, young Harry Masterson died a few minutes ago! Now, I don't think that Harry would've wanted us to let these aliens take us over! So all of you, pick yourselves up, and fight! These things are a threat to the safety of our home! Don't let them take that!" With that, he walked off, leaving us to start the extermination.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I WON'T BE ABLE TO PUBLISH A CHAPTER NEXT WEEK, AS I WILL BE OUT OF TOWN. DON'T WORRY, I'LL BE BACK ON JULY FIFTH. THE REST OF MY FAMILY WILL STILL BE HOME, THOUGH, SO DON'T GET ANY IDEAS.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER III: DEFEND THE FACILITY

The tension built every minute there were still aliens inside the facility. We were sent out in groups of ten to find any aliens and kill them. As I walked down the halls with my group, we all knew that stealth was out the window for the aliens. Our fears were proved true as a small group of alien foot soldiers came charging at us. One alien managed to rip out one of our guy's jugular. He was able to fire off a few shots into the alien's face, making its head explode.

It was fairly smooth from there on out. In fifteen seconds, we were soaked in black blood and grey flesh. We had to leave the guy who died. That's one of the worst feelings a human can experience: having to leave a fallen comrade. I turned towards him and gave him a salute. It had to be done.

We continued to proceed down the halls, feeling weighed down with the burden of a dead friend. We thought for a couple of seconds that all of them were gone. This was not true. Up until that day, I didn't know that berserkers could crawl on the ceiling. The realization came quickly when a grey blur dropped from above us and tore one of our guys in half. We surrounded it with our guns aimed at every body part.

We all felt something break inside us as we thought, _This thing murdered our friend. _We all opened fire, tearing the berserker to shreds, eventually leaving nothing but a gory pile of torn flesh. I fell on my knees and breathed heavily. I felt exhilarated and weak at the same time. One of the guys still alive helped me up.

I took another look at what remained of the berserker. I spat on it. Then I realized: this thing was scared. It was alone, and berserkers always traveled in packs. That meant that all of his comrades, all his friends, were dead. I almost felt sympathy. But then I looked at what was left of the soldier it had killed. The sadness disappeared until I looked at the berserker's remains again. I covered my mouth and leaned against the wall, eventually sliding down it.

Tears slid down my face with the strength of the internal debate raging inside me. Another soldier walked in front of me, extending his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up. I couldn't bear to look at either our fallen or the berserker. It wasn't long until another pack of aliens came at us. My rage boiled again, and I screamed as we killed them all. None of us died, but I snapped when I saw all the dead aliens. I violently threw up and collapsed.

One of the guys stood over me and said, "Hey, Turner, you okay?" I shook my head. He sighed and said, "Come on, guys, let's get him out of here." They got me up and led me towards the central part of the facility.

Upon arriving, Frank walked up to us and said, "What's with Turner?" One of the guys said, "We don't know." Frank looked at me. "Come on, Turner. Let's get you to a bed." I felt grateful. I knew I needed to rest at this point. As I lied down on the bed, I was nearly unable to sleep, thinking about what had happened. But I _was _eventually able to go to sleep. It didn't make it any better. All I could dream about was the bloody remains of my friends and the berserker crawling towards me, all screaming "WHY" for different reasons.

I woke up screaming. Frank ran towards me and said, "Hey, what's wrong?" "Nothing," I lied. "It was just a nightmare. I'm sure I'll feel better." Frank sighed and said, "I'm not sure I believe you, Turner. But it's not like I could get you to tell me." He left with a look of worry on his face. He was right. There was no way I would tell him. Johann walked up to me a few minutes later and said in his rough German accent, "You look like you were spat out of Hell, Derrickson." "I feel like it," I replied. He patted my shoulder and continued, "Well, we all want you back. You might not be as good as me, but we want you back nonetheless."

I smiled. Johann might've seemed like the Terminator's little brother, but at times, he could be a big teddy bear. He left, leaving me with just my thoughts and the incessant noise of gunfire ringing through the halls of the facility. It was about an hour before the whole place was cleared of alien foot soldiers. I got up after I was notified. The bad news was, although we got rid of the aliens, the facility was almost beyond repair. It wouldn't be fully functional for several months, meaning we were all going to L.A.

L.A. was the biggest of all the American training facilities. Just in case you're wondering, the largest in the world was in New Delhi. Anyway, preparing to leave was a little sobering. I'd been here for like half a year. I made tight friendships and had so many new experiences. As we walked to the cars that would bring us to the airport, I took one last look at the place. I turned away and entered the car. I didn't say a word throughout the entire plane trip, silently observing the destruction we passed. The capitol building in Austin had one half practically blown off. The Grand Canyon was wrecked. Las Vegas was rubble.

The situation, in all, seemed dire, and it was. When we finally arrived in L.A., we found that the facility there wasn't badly damaged, and had plenty of space. Unfortunately, the reason being was that they were running low on men. As we walked in, we were greeted with a loud voice. "Alright, so you guys are all from Baton Rouge? Well, I say you put up a heck of a fight back there, and I commend you! My name is Max Larten! I'll be assigning your barracks!" He continued talking, and I remembered his name. He was famous for partially fashioning his armor from a berserker's skeleton. He was currently wearing it.

He assigned us our barracks, and luckily, I was in the same one as Al and Kyle. I immediately sat down on my bed and covered my face with my hands, rubbing my eyes. Kyle looked at me and said, "You doing okay?" I sighed heavily and said, "Honestly, man, I'm not sure. I mean, it's a whole new ballgame now. I just don't know if I can get used to this change. Baton Rouge felt like home. I don't know how I'll take this in the long run." Kyle nodded and said, "I know how you're feeling. But me and Al and Johann, we're your friends. You can talk to us." "Yeah," said Al, who was listening to Rush with one headphone in, "We'd rather you not be reduced to a quivering mess by the end of the week. Sometimes you got to let it all out. Remember, it's manly to cry when you need to." I laughed and said, "Thanks, guys."

If I was honest with myself, though, I knew I wouldn't be able to bring myself to tell them how I was really feeling. I just couldn't tell them about what happened. Frank walked in and said, "Hey, how're you guys holding up?" I nodded and said, "We're okay." Frank cocked his head to one side and said, "I do believe that Al and Kyle are just fine, but you, Turner, I'm not so sure." He paused for a few seconds. "Well," he said, turning away, "I'll let you three settle in a little bit."

After Frank left, all three of us just decided to go to sleep. We were all dead tired from the attack the day before and the flight that day. I was still wide awake hours after the others. No matter how many times I attempted, I just wouldn't go to sleep. Finally, at about three in the morning, I was able to sleep. It didn't help. The same dream I had at the facility relentlessly ran through my mind. I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping. Al and Kyle were already getting ready.

Kyle took one look at me and shouted, "IT'S ALIVE!" Kyle snickered and said, "But seriously, dude, if you'd rather not have your butt kicked by a former navy SEAL, I would suggest that you get going." I frantically took a shower, put on my armor, and reported to the day's first training session. The fighting had died down considerably, meaning the new guys could train for a little bit.

The L.A. facility had a larger training room than that of Baton Rouge. You had to take out more robots, and their A.I. was more advanced, too. This made the training day harder, but not impossible. It was purely a firefight. I walked out after taking down ten robots and having only been hit three times.

At breakfast, I found myself encountering Max. He walked up to me with a smile and said, "Hey, how're you liking the L.A. experience?" I replied, "Well, the training days are pretty cool, and the food's certainly better." When I mentioned the food, I thought of Faxwell. I stopped walking for a second and started choking up. Max noticed, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "I'm sorry. But don't worry, we've all lost someone to this war so far. You can talk to any of us." That was the second time I'd heard that in three days.

I didn't know if I wanted to talk about it. I was afraid that I would be ridiculed, called weak. Years later, I know these fears were unfounded, but back then, they were very real to me. Though I had several friends like Al, Kyle, and Johann, I felt alone.

I ate slowly, not feeling up to it for some strange reason. Though Al tried to cheer me up, all his efforts were, sadly, wasted. We had another training session in the evening, and then we went back to our barracks. I still felt so very, very alone.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV: L.A. TRAINING

The whole week afterwards, all we did was guard the place in shifts. Needless to say, with the fighting having died down, it was boring. But then again, I secretly didn't want to fight. It wasn't cowardice, it was just too much. The events in Baton Rouge had shaken me up. When the next training day came up, I felt ready. At least, I thought I did. Anyway, I walked in there with the starter gun I'd been given: an ice chain-gun. The guys in L.A. always changed what weapon you'd get each training day, so you were used to all of them.

I stood in the gigantic room. It was kind of like a skate park, with different ramps and platforms and artificial hills. There was, of course, a detractor or two from this comparison. There were guns suspended in magnetic fields all over the place, and everybody else in the room was a deadly robot. Still, it was pretty close. I was still amazed at the place. But I knew I couldn't just sit and marvel. I had to brace myself for all the robots coming at me. Three came up on platforms from below the room. One to my left grabbed an assault rifle. Another picked up a thunder gun. The third got a rocket launcher.

Fortunately for me, I had an ice chain-gun. I fired towards the one on my left. The rounds hit him squarely in the chest, ripping him apart. I know what you're thinking. How didn't that bother me, after what I'd been through? Well, for me, it was the simple fact that the robots weren't living things. They were of no consequence. This made training days even easier than the real thing. The robots didn't feel anything. They didn't have emotions. No matter what you did to them, they would be nothing like a real soldier.

The robot with the thunder gun ran and dived towards the third robot. The third robot launched an RPG that nearly missed the other robot. But like I said, it _nearly _missed. The rocket took off the top of the robot's head. It dropped to the ground with a _clang. _The remaining robot turned towards me. Another robot rose up in one of the far corners of the room. I spun around while firing. One round caught the robot with the launcher in the arm, taking it off and shutting it down. The newest robot jumped, evading the bullets.

The newer robot was joined by an even newer robot. This is getting confusing to tell now. The robot that had avoided my earlier assault had grabbed a shotgun. It managed to get close to me before I could shoot, and I was blown ten feet. I lost the chain-gun. When I got back up, I grabbed a sniper rifle and went up a ramp. Being on my new perch, I noticed that yet another robot had joined the fight, and it had a pair of bio-Uzis.

I looked down my scope, waiting patiently for the right moment. It eventually came, and I blew off the head of the robot who'd served me earlier with the shotgun. This consequently attracted the attention of the other two robots. The robot with bio-Uzis relentlessly fired at me while I was running around the circumference of the room. He missed every time, and I landed a lucky shot to the midsection of the other robot. All things considered, this training day was going well.

It ended with me taking out ten robots, and getting hit once. After I finished, Al ran up to me and said, "Good job today, man!" "Thanks, Al," I said. Al and I walked through the halls of the L.A. facility, and eventually, we came upon a room where Al said, "Oh, hey, here's our stop." "What's going on?" I asked. "Ah," said Al, "I forgot to tell you. Max called a meeting with all the guys from Baton Rouge." We walked inside to see Max standing on a stage in front of a multitude of soldiers. Max looked at us and said, "Okay, Turner, you were the final guy to have his training day, so that's everybody."

Max put his hands together and started speaking. "Alright, everybody," he began, "all of you are from Baton Rouge, am I right?" We all shouted our confirmation. "Okay, then," he continued, smiling, "then I've got something to tell you guys. All of you have had sufficient training, so the training days stop here. You are now all full time soldiers out in the field. Now, remember, you are the last line of defense for this city, and the ships above us will destroy the rest of us if we fail! I'll be assigning you your stations."

We all stepped forward, waiting to be assigned. Afterwards, I ended up being on the very front line with Al and a Japanese-American guy named Hishi Tojo. I was glad. He was a black-ops soldier learned in several martial arts. A few minutes later, we were all shuttled out to our positions. It wasn't a pretty sight. The buildings were desolate, many with severe damage. That didn't compare to all the bodies, or what was left. Legs, arms, sometimes even heads, lying lifeless on the ripped streets. I quickly turned my face away, already having flashes of what happened at the Baton Rouge facility running through my head.

When we reached our destination, all the soldiers present seemed jittery with the anticipation of battle. I was able to keep my cool…until I looked over our fortifications. Not a hundred yards from us there was a camp of aliens. I saw packs of berserkers milling around, insurgents cleaning their launchers, regular foot infantry keeping their guns focused towards us, and commanders shouting orders in their chaotic language.

I turned around and slid down the wall, realizing just how terrible the fighting would be once it started up again. Fortunately, we had anti-aircraft guns trained on the alien drop ships, just in case another decided to venture elsewhere. I was still frozen, thinking about the enemy's strength, when Hishi walked up to me and said, "You look like you've seen a ghost." I replied, "No, they're alive." Hishi laughed and offered his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up. He said confidently, "Don't worry. We can take these guys." Once again, I looked towards the camp. I looked Hishi in the eyes and said, "I wish I was as sure." Hishi nodded and walked off.

Later that day, I met up with Al. I probably looked pretty shaken up, because he said, "You saw all of them, too?" "Yeah," I replied. I was admittedly surprised to hear a tremor in my voice. I guess it was just that I knew what we were up against, and it was worse than anything else I'd experienced. Al pursed his lips and said, "You know what? We've got to do something that'll lift your shoulders a little bit." I agreed.

Al got up on a crate and started shouting to everybody, saying that we were going to have a little bit of fun. So, all soldiers present (including me) started pulling out checkers, chess, video games, movies, and all other sorts of things. I sat down to watch The Hangover with Al, Hishi, and a couple of other guys. It felt good to laugh until we cried, and I did feel better by the end of the hour.

That night in the barracks, Al said to me, "Well, I hope that had a positive effect on you. Now, get some sleep. It's going to be another boring day tomorrow, and you don't want to fall asleep on duty." When we fell asleep, I was immediately assaulted by dreams about the events in Baton Rouge. All the blood and guts and horror returned to me, causing me to wake up in a cold sweat. I looked at my alarm clock. It was two in the morning. I got up and put on a shirt.

I grabbed my iPod and put in headphones. I turned on my Antestor playlist. Needless to say, it woke me up. I wandered around, thinking about what had happened in the last few days. I don't think any of us dreamed that one day, we'd be thrust into an interplanetary war. Al, Kyle and I grew up together in New Orleans. We were all like brothers. Al never knew his biological parents, but he was able to keep his humor. Kyle had a quadriplegic brother. He was prevented from many things because of him, but he was okay with that. When his brother died, Kyle came to me and suggested that we join Raze.

All these memories and more were in my head, and then I reached my prime reason. My girlfriend was one of the people who had suspicions about the aliens' intentions. She was hit by a car a couple of days after Kyle came to me. She died in the hospital, but not before telling me to get into the fight. As I returned to the present, I looked up at the night sky. Without all the lights, the night sky was lit up with a brilliant display of stars. It was amazing.

I kept walking, changing to my Snow Patrol playlist. The first song was Chasing Cars. It reminded me of my girlfriend. I sat down, thinking of the time we had. I wanted to marry her. I didn't get that chance. I cursed this war. I cursed the aliens. And I drowned in my thoughts for a long time. When I finished, it was about 4:30.

I went back to bed, falling asleep instantly. This time, I had better dreams. I dreamed about my days as a kid, running aimlessly around with Al and Kyle, just having a good time. I dreamed about my first date. I dreamed of a better life, a life without the war.

In the morning, Al shook me awake. "Hey," he said, "Get up. We're on lookout duty." I groaned and got up, getting ready. At about ten o' clock, I walked to the wall, letting the barrel of my assault rifle extend towards the alien camp. I put in my headphones, waiting for this day to continue, waiting for something, anything to happen. And I thought about last night. And I smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER V: NEW TECHNOLOGY

Nothing happened for a few days. Everything seemed as normal as a ravaged battlefield could be. Then one day, things changed. I was on watch duty, staring down the enemy camp, when Al came up to me and put my hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and saw that he was trying to keep it together. "Turner," he said, "Darren, he…he k…he's gone." I took my hands off my rifle and put my hands over my head. "He didn't leave a note," said Al, "I'll take over your shift, don't worry about it." I got up and went to an obscure corner of our base.

Then I started screaming my lungs out. Darren killed himself. If I had just been able to protect his brother, maybe things would've been different. This was my first glimpse into what this war could do to a man. Hishi found me sometime later. "What happened?" he asked. I looked down at the ground and said, "Th…there was a kid named Ha…" I choked up. If I had tried to say his name again, I would've broken down. But I kept going, "Anyway, he was only nineteen…he was killed…in Baton Rouge. His brother, Darren, to…took his own l-life this morning." By this time, I was about ready to throw up. Hishi turned away and covered his mouth with his hand. "I'll leave you for now, Turner," he said. And he did.

Later, I found the strength to take my post again. I walked up to Al and said, "Take a rest, Al." He got up, patted my shoulder, and walked away towards his bed. Thoughts swam through my head. I honestly can't imagine the kind of pain that it takes to make a guy kill himself. I guess he just couldn't live without his brother. I didn't kill myself over my girlfriend, but…what if I had? What repercussions would everyone else have to deal with? How would Harry have felt if he knew that Darren had killed himself? It goes to show you the power of human despair.

I'd seen the aliens. They barely had a shred of community and love. Frank and all the other scientists had determined that the only difference between each member of their infantry and insurgents and anything besides a berserker was a mark on the back of their neck. They were probably grown, not born. The berserkers were more likely born, giving them a greater sense of fellowship. Of course, this wasn't saying a lot.

When I finished my shift, I was still thinking. I didn't know Darren that well, but I was sorrowful all the same. I felt some kind of responsibility for Harry's death. I eventually went to sleep, dreaming of nothing at all. The next morning, the base was quieter. Everyone barely spoke unless it was necessary. This was an aspect of humans that the aliens didn't have. When a comrade falls by his own hand or by an enemy's, all his friends and even those who didn't know him are sent reeling. We all feel it. We all care about it. We are all saddened.

I was on patrol duty that day. It was my job to walk around a certain area of my base, making sure nothing was amiss. I was walking around a corner when I heard groaning. I found three drunken soldiers whose armor indicated that they were in the same battalion as Darren. "Alright, get yourselves up, and head to the infirmary," I said. "Oh, come on," said one of them with slurred speech, "Just let us have our drinks." "I think you've had enough," I said. I spoke into my com-link and said, "Hey, Al, Hishi, can you help me out? I've got a trio of boozers here."

Al and Hishi helped me drag the men to the infirmary amid their protests. Afterwards, Al said, "It's a crying shame. This war's bringing everyone down." "Yeah," I said, "I suppose you're right." For the rest of the day, my patrol turned up nothing, and I went to bed with just that one event in my head. Those poor men had to live with their friend's death. I can see why they turned to alcohol. But still, Al was right. In the past few days, it was like a mass depression had fallen over the base.

The following day, Max had entered our camp and said, "Alright, everybody! As you know, our troops could use as much help as possible! The higher-ups in Raze have decided that a little A.I. wouldn't hurt. So, we've developed robots with greater armor and fighting capabilities! We've already gotten a lot of volunteers from other camps, but we still need a few more to test them! Do we have any takers?" Al raised his hand. Hishi raised his sword. I reluctantly held up my hand as well.

There were about five other men who volunteered, and we were all shuttled back to the main base. When we reached the base, we were all taken to the training room. Kyle was among the crowd. "Hey, man," I said. "Hi, Turner," said Kyle. He looked sad. But then I remembered how Kyle had reacted when Harry died. He was the worst. "I was sorry to hear about Darren," I said. Kyle simply nodded.

Before we had the chance to get in there, we saw the others in their matches. The robots were certainly better. They beat several of some of the best fighters I know, including Johann. Max laughed and said, "Look at that! These will most certainly help!" Eventually, Kyle was up. The fighting was quick and intense. Kyle barely made it, with only one K.O. over the robot. He came out soaked in sweat, breathing heavily. I realized that the robots _didn't _get tired. While that was good for us, what if (a big if, but still possible) the aliens managed to hack into the robots' systems and turn them against us? It was a burning question that haunted me for a long time.

Al went in after Kyle, and it didn't go well for him. He ended up losing 13-15. Finally, Hishi went in, and he showed us how it was done. He managed to win 15-6. And then it was my turn. I entered the room, adrenaline pumping in anticipation. Fortunately, we were all only fighting one robot. _Un_fortunately, as I said, it was extremely tough.

As it was raised into the room, I gulped and grabbed a shotgun. The robot did a ten-foot sideways flip, landing and grabbing a thunder gun. I held out my hand in disbelief and said, "Aw, COME ON!" I didn't have time to think about it, however, because the robot was ready to win this. It charged towards me, firing off a shot that I barely dodged. Thankfully, I was able to shoot it as it ran past, injuring it but not destroying it. It turned and immediately fired, throwing me backwards. I landed hard on my back, getting the wind knocked out of me.

After five seconds, I got up and ran across the room, keeping the shotgun trained on the robot the whole time. It was preparing to fire at me again, and I stopped just in time so that the bolt hit the wall ahead of me. I fired, and two of the laser bolts hit the robot, destroying it. "Yes!" I said triumphantly. Of course, I didn't have ample time to celebrate, and five seconds later, another robot happened to come out next to an ice chain-gun. I sighed and ran for a rocket launcher. I managed to reach it in time, firing off a rocket as I grabbed it. The robot attempted to dodge, but it was too slow. The rocket took off the robot's right arm, along with the chain-gun. I fired another rocket, completely decimating the robot.

_Alright, _I thought, _I can do this_. Another robot came up about twenty feet behind me, taking up a grenade launcher. This gun didn't launch pressure grenades, it launched sticky grenades. For training days, they were more like flash-bangs, but it still hurt. The robot fired, and I managed to get out of the way for the first grenade…but the second one caught my foot, and I ended up performing an involuntary back-flip. I landed on my chest, once again getting the wind knocked out of me. "Ow," I groaned.

When I got back up, I was stark raving mad. I went off on the robot with my T2, and it didn't stand a chance. At least, that's what I thought, but apparently, the robot had gotten off a shot, and I had a glowing red orb stuck to my chest. I was _again _thrown backwards, this time twisting and landing on my side. About the same time I got up again, another robot had been sent in. I was next to a zapper, and I didn't give the robot time to grab a weapon. I jumped, using my booster charges and launching myself towards the robot. I tackled it, aiming the zapper directly at its metallic face. I fired continually, frying the robot. I figured my chances were good at this point.

Long story short, I managed…to lose 12-15. Most of it was probably because I was frequently angered, ending up with caution being thrown out the window. I'd have to do something about that. As I walked out, sweaty and tired, Kyle ran up to me and said, "Hey, buddy. You did well." "Yeah," said Al, "Of course, you didn't do as well as me. But, we can't all be me." "Well, don't forget, I was ahead of you," said Kyle. "And I was better than all three of you," said Hishi with a smile on his face.

I smiled and said, "Well, I'm just glad these tin-cans work, because we're going to need all the help we can get." The other three nodded, and we walked back to the screens displaying the matches.

Afterwards, we were all taken back to our camps, and as me and Al were getting off, Al said, "Hey, you've got your worried face on again." "I guess I should," I said, "It's been a worrying war." "This is true," said Al, "But we still have to keep our heads held high." I nodded, and Al and I walked back to our beds. And throughout the camp, that's exactly what I did. I still keep Al's words close to me, helping me carry myself through any tragedy, war or otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI: ERROR

A week after Darren's suicide, all was still calm, and the stalemate held. Al came up to me while I was taking a nap, shook me awake, and said, "Hey, your next shift starts now." "Wonderful," I groaned. I sleepily took up my rifle and took my position. I kept my eye on the alien camp through my scope. It was a strange experience, watching them. They moved around as if robots, seemingly taking orders subconsciously. Perhaps that was what the marks were for. Berserkers were more independent, travelling in packs and sending those infantry they found obnoxious flying. I'd already seen many a spine broken against a post. The berserkers weren't killed afterwards, which probably means they're expensive.

While it was mildly fascinating, a watch shift was also incredibly boring. The aliens were either biding their time, or waiting until we tired ourselves out. As far as anybody knew, the aliens could go at least a week without sleep and still be in top fighting condition. Autopsies from salvaged alien bodies showed that they had two hearts, a subject over which Al, a Whovian, snickered. Along with that, they have stronger muscles and better reflexes, but they didn't have really any emotions. That was another key difference between us and the aliens. They couldn't get angry. We could. And that made us more dangerous. I'd heard of adrenaline-pumped soldiers beating aliens to death with their bare hands.

When my shift finished, I went to my bed and took out a picture of my girlfriend that I had in my gauntlet. The photo always brought a smile and tears. It didn't break its streak. After about fifteen minutes, I finally put the photo away, turning on my side and preparing to go to sleep. It felt like I was only there for a few seconds, but I woke up in the morning and began my patrol shift. Nothing was out of the ordinary this time, and I went to the innermost part of the camp during my break. Al was waiting for me, and when I entered, he said, "You up for a game of ping-pong?" "Sure," I said. "If you're scared, you don't have to," said Al. "Scared of you?" I said, "Yeah, that'll be the day." Al grinned and said, "It's on, son."

We began the game, with the ball going back and forth at an impressive clip. Al and I were good at ping-pong, and neither of us was willing to show any mercy. As we played, Al said, "You've been pretty quiet these past few days. Is the job getting to you?" "Maybe a little bit, but who isn't it getting to?" I said. Al nodded and said, "You're right. Everybody's been rattled, especially with Darren and all. But seriously, though, what've you been thinking about?" "Eh, not much," I said, "Mostly I've just been, you know, observing the aliens. It's almost sad. They have pretty much _no _emotions, _no _love. It's like they're made for war, specifically." "I wouldn't be surprised," said Al, "but I know there's been more bothering you."

I faltered, and Al was able to get a point. I sighed, served, and said, "Yeah, I've been thinking about Natalie, too." Al understood. Natalie was my girlfriend's name. To this day, one of the most difficult things for me to do is say her name. "It's okay," said Al, "I won't ask you anymore." "No, no, you're good," I said, "It's actually made me feel better. I mean, I miss her, don't get me wrong, and that hurts. But I'm doing what she asked me to do, and that's my way of honoring her memory." "Well, just make sure you don't get killed," said Al, "I think that would make her mad." I laughed and said, "You're probably right."

We kept at our game, and eventually, Hishi came in. "Seems like an intense game," he said. "Oh, no," said Al, "I'm not going to get roped into playing you. With all your ninja skills, you'd take me down easy." "Oh, come on," I said, "Hey, Hishi, why don't you but some money on it?" "Alright," said Hishi, "How about this, Al: if I win, you give me fifty dollars. You win, I give you two hundred." Al's mouth twitched. The prospect of money has always been Al's weakness. He was the kid on the block that would do practically anything if you sweetened it with enough money.

Al finished our game, winning 11-8. He turned to Hishi, and I tossed Hishi my paddle. Al said, "Alright, I'll take you up on that. I can afford fifty. Let's do it." Hishi smiled and walked to the side opposite from Al. I sat down to watch the show. As I watched them, I thought about how having good friends is one of the few consolations given to soldiers. Without their support, a man would crumble. Then again, if they died, the result could be the same. You would so suddenly lose what kept you sane in a war. I suppose that's what happened to Darren. His brother was his best friend, and he lost him to a gruesome death. I think, in that moment, I understood why he killed himself. I suppose that's why the alien soldiers didn't have emotion. If their comrades died, they would carry on, they would feel nothing.

Hishi and Al played fast and hard, and the ball was nearly impossible to follow. I was unsurprised at just how good Hishi was. Like Al had said, Hishi was trained as a ninja, and that gave him stellar reflexes. A few minutes later, Al was doling out fifty dollars. I led him back to his bed. He eventually said, "I can't believe I let money get the best of me again!" "Don't worry about it, buddy," I said, "That's just how you are." "That really doesn't make me feel any better," said Al. "Well," I said, "I need to head to my watch shift." "You go ahead," said Al, "I'm going to lament some more." I laughed and headed to my watch shift.

Hishi had the same schedule as I did, and he joined me at the watch positions. "That game was pretty intense," I said. "Yeah," Hishi chuckled, "Do you know, Al literally gave me a run for my money." "That's Al for you," I said, "Ping-pong is the only sport he's ever played well." Hishi and I stared off into the distance, and eventually he said, "So, how long have you known Al?" I laughed and said, "Man, I've known that joker for my whole life. He wasn't the only one, either. My friend Kyle is in a different camp. We all grew up in New Orleans. Man, we stuck closer than brothers. I don't know what I would do without those guys." Hishi nodded and said, "I know exactly what you mean. I have a cousin I'm really close to, his name's Takahiro." "Really?" I said, "Well, where is he?" "Oh, he's in Beijing right now," answered Hishi.

I nodded. Hishi must've been scared for Takahiro. For all he knew, he could've been dead. I felt sorry for Hishi. "I bet he'll be fine if he was trained like you," I said. "Thanks for that," said Hishi, "Yeah, he's capable, but of course, I still worry about him. What about you? Do you have anybody waiting for you?" "Not really, no," I said, "My parents aren't that…you know." "Oh, I apologize," said Hishi. "Aw, don't worry about it," I said, "I don't really think about them anymore. To me, they're my mother and father, not my mom and dad." Hishi nodded.

The next day, I called Kyle in between patrol and watch. "Hey," said Kyle, "How're you holding up?" "I'm fine," I said, "but I'm bored. What about you? Are you keeping afloat?" "As much as I can," replied Kyle, "I mean, with all that's happened, and with almost nothing to distract me…well, it's just been hard." "Yeah, I know how you feel," I said, "Fortunately, I have Al to entertain me." "Ah, that joker," said Kyle, "Hey, has he sung his AC/DC version of Bohemian Rhapsody yet?" "Not yet, but when the mood's right…" I said. Kyle and I talked for about half an hour, and eventually came the usual "Take care, Kyle" and "You too, Turner" that I'd been used to for all those years.

Later that day, while Al was putting on his uniform in place of his armor, I mentioned my talk with Kyle. Immediately, still shirtless, Al jumped on a crate and began belting out Queen's classic rock masterpiece while using an uncanny imitation of Brian Johnson. Everybody laughed and clapped when he finished with a bow, and Al came back to me and said, "Thank you very much for reminding me. I haven't done that in years." When Al was little, his dream was to go into the music industry, preferably the lead singer for some rock band. When the war came along, Al decided his home was more important than his dream. But he always said, "When this thing is over, I'm going right back on that track. I'll be in Austin in no time!"

While we were all still smiling from Al's performance, Max walked into our camp with an expression as if he found he had cancer. He stopped walking in the middle of our camp and shouted, "Where's the projector in this place?" A soldier directed Max to the projector, which was hooked up to a laptop, and all our eyes were fixated on Max. Eventually he heaved a long sigh and continued, "As you know, we were testing new robots for use in the war not too long ago. There was a shipment that was scheduled to be taken here in a Beluga aircraft. There was a glitch." All of our stomachs lurched in anticipation of the terrible news to come.

Max continued, "The robots killed all of the crew and are now AWOL." "How many were there?" a soldier about twenty feet to my right asked. Max took a while to answer. He looked up at the sky, then back down, and said, "Over two hundred." Now, those may seem like small numbers, but remember these robots were even more powerful than the aliens. Max kept going, "I have orders to show you what happened, in order that you might be 'spurred on', as the higher-ups put it."

What we saw was a gruesome display of the robots' power. There was blood splattered all over the walls of the aircraft, and the crew was in pieces. There were several men who threw up. From an obscure corner of the crowd, I heard, "God help us."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII: BACKUP

Fear enveloped the camp for days afterward, causing paranoia and insomnia. The men were tired, scared, and just done with it. Misery was a familiar feeling for the men of the Raze program by this time. Al was on patrol with me one day, and he said, "So, how about them robots?" "Aw, it sucks, man," I said, "We don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing, it's all a big mess." Al nodded. We walked for a while in silence, until I said, "Hey, Al?" "Yeah?" he said. "Do you ever get the feeling that we…won't win?" I said reluctantly. Al looked at me, eyes widened, and said, "Hey, I know the last few weeks have been pretty depressing, but why are you thinking like that? It's all good, we'll win." "Somehow, that doesn't reassure me," I said. Al laughed, and we continued through the camp.

After our patrol shifts, we were resting when Max walked back into our area. Max looked serious. He began speaking, "All right! We've just received word that Sergeant Johnson, who is positioned in Austin, found something. A ship crashed not far from his base a few days ago. He and his squad have valuable info from this. Something took out his entire squad. That was his last transmission. As every other facility near him is destroyed, we need as many guys from here as possible to help him out. Any volunteers?" I raised my hand, along with Al and Hishi. About twenty more guys volunteered, and we were brought back to the main base.

Kyle and Johann were back there, with at least three hundred other soldiers. I ran up to Kyle and said, "How've you been doing?" "Okay, considering," said Al. Johann raised his hand and said, "I'm okay, too, just in case you're wondering." We all laughed, and looked to the front of the room just as Max walked up. "Now, this is going to be risky," said Max. "When isn't it?" shouted Al. Everyone, including Max, laughed. "True, true," he said, "But here, we're going to have to be especially careful in this instance. We have no idea what took out his squad, so try to be prepared for anything. Whatever happens, hang tough. We have to get the info he has. Let's head out!"

We headed to the transport planes, and my friends and I happened to get onto the same plane as Max. About twenty minutes before we reached Austin, Max said, "Alright, if any of you are afraid of heights…well, it's too late now. We're going to jump to Sergeant Johnson, so get your parachutes ready." Al piped up, "This ought to be fun." Max smiled slyly and said, "I suppose we'll see."

We reached Austin, and the doors to the plane opened, allowing us to go forward with the jump. When I jumped off, my adrenaline skyrocketed and I couldn't resist yelling, "WOO-HOO!" I brought my arms and legs close together to fall faster, and I smiled as my speed increased. As we approached the ground, I spread out and opened the drag flaps on my suit. When I was sufficiently slowed down, I opened my parachute, and made a smooth descent all the way to the ground. When I touched down, I immediately disconnected my parachute and took out my rifle, waiting for a few of the others to join me on the ground. Soon, everybody was on solid ground, and the real operation began.

We cautiously proceeded inward to the area that Sergeant Johnson was reported to be in. As I scanned the ground ahead of me, I noticed something was amiss. "Hey, Max?" I said, "Sergeant Johnson and his men, were they good fighters?" Max nodded and said, "Yeah, some of the best." "Then why aren't there any dead aliens?" I said. Max stopped in his tracks. "I can certainly tell you what _is _dead," he said grimly. I turned my flashlight toward Max's feet. There was a dead soldier. Max squatted and said, "Hey, come look at this." I walked over and said, "What?" "Look at the wounds," said Max. I looked closely at the soldier's decimated back. "These are bite marks," I said. "They most certainly are," said Max.

"I don't know of any alien unit that does something like that to a person," I said. "Well, who knows?" said Max, shrugging, "Maybe the aliens have some kind of new soldier." "Yeah, maybe," I said. We kept going through the ruins of the facility. There were dead humans, but no dead aliens. If this was a new kind of alien soldier, it was stronger than anything we'd ever seen. Max looked at the guys behind us and shouted, "Like I said earlier, be very careful." We went down a corridor, still observing the gruesome carnage presented to us.

"This is just nasty," said a soldier near the back. We reached the center of the facility and Sergeant Johnson. He was dead, neck snapped. "Great," said Max, "I suppose we can check out that ship while we're here." All of us exited the facility, heading toward the ship. Max shouted, "Everybody, activate your gas masks." We took the detachable gas masks and put them on our helmets. We gingerly walked into the ship, Max assigning which sections each of us should go to.

Al, Johann, and I were taking our part of the ship, and we took notice of the dead aliens strewn about the hall. "Hey, where are the ship controls?" I asked. "Probably on the other side of the place," said Al. "Okay, so they're crashing, they would've noticed," I said, "But instead of heading for the controls and trying to make a safe landing, they stay in harm's way. Whatever they were carrying must've been more important than their lives." I walked around the hall, trying to see if I could find anything. Eventually I stepped on a floor panel that came loose, and I fell about twenty feet onto another grate.

I heard Al shout, "Turner? Are you all right?" "I'm fine," I said, "I think I found something!" I kicked the grate down onto the floor below, and dropped into the room. I found another alien, clutching a table as if its life depended on it. It was already dead, with blood still pouring from its smashed-in face. I looked around the table, finding that all objects appeared to be for some kind of scientific purpose.

Al and Johann dropped down, and Al immediately said, "So, this must've been part of the R&D department." "That's probably right," I said. I saw what looked like a Petri dish on the table. It had a speck of a strange green substance on it. I looked over each piece of equipment until I found one like a microscope. I looked at the substance, seeing tiny squirming organisms. "Hey," I said, "These things are still alive." "Really?" said Al, "Let me see." Al took a long look at it. Al was always the kid who had perfect scores in biology, and eventually he said, "Hm. It looks like a virus of some kind."

"That's strange," I said. We walked over to the opposite side of the room and Al said, "So, what do you think, chemical warfare, or what?" "I don't…" I started to say. "Uh, guys," Johann interrupted. We heard a low, guttural groaning coming from the alien's direction. Its face was practically split in two. I took out my T-2 and began firing. Once, twice, three times, four times. The alien didn't slow. Eventually, I aimed at its head, and fired twice, blowing its head off. "I think I know what Johnson found," I said.

The dead aliens in the hall above us were dropping through, coming towards us. Johann wasted two of them, but he ran out of ammo. He took out his knife and shoved it into the brain of another alien. It gurgled and writhed for a few seconds and eventually stilled. He took his knife out and backed away quickly. I took out a pressure grenade and threw it at the remaining undead. Their bodies crumpled, blood splattering on the walls. It didn't help that they were still twitching and groaning afterwards. "Let's get out of here now!" Al said.

We clambered back up into the hall, running frantically towards any other group we could find. Max's group was the first one we met with. I started saying, "Max, Johnson found a…" "Zombie virus, I know," said Max. He looked to one side. Following his gaze, I saw blood and guts all over the walls and floor, thankfully all from the aliens. "How're the other groups doing?" I asked. "As far as we know, there haven't been any casualties, but I contacted one of our scientists back in L.A. He thinks this was some kind of kamikaze mission." "He thinks they crashed it on purpose?" said Johann. "Well, I'm fairly sure that's what a kamikaze does," said Max condescendingly.

Max continued, "I also received word that another ship has crashed in NYC. This is starting to turn into a bigger problem." Max, his group, and my group headed to find everybody else. Fortunately, no one was killed, and we were able to take out all the zombies on the ship. We went back to the facility, towards the center. When we reached the center, Johnson's body was gone. "Oh, no," said Max in a low voice.

From the shadows, an undead Johnson lunged towards a soldier. The soldier yelled and unloaded his assault rifle into the zombie. It fell hard, ripped apart. Max and some of the other went to bury him. Before they left to do so, Max said, "We'll use this place as a base, for now. Make sure to fortify it and take out any zombies that approach." We all got to work, barricading the doors and making the place up with beds we found lying around.

Al turned to me when we finished and said, "What happens now? We have aliens, robots, and now zombies to deal with. I'm starting to understand why you doubted our chances of winning." I looked upwards, blew out a long puff of air, and said, "I don't know."

END OF PART 1

COMING SOON: RAZE, PART 2: EARTHFALL!


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